


Falling Sideways Into Something New

by meh_guh



Series: Tony the Polyglot and his Sneaky Sniper Boyfriend [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: M/M, a little angsty, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Tony's having a little trouble, and Clint's starting to have ~feelings~. It's a disaster, Clint <i>knows<i>, but he can't quite make himself care.</i></i></p>
<p>(All Hail the Allspeak from Clint's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Sideways Into Something New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aer/gifts), [daphne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphne/gifts).



> So... Aer and Daphne asked for this; I couldn't help letting a little Clint/Coulson creep in there, and as far as this series is concerned, the movie happened.
> 
> For Aer and Daphne who asked for this, and everyone who prompted and kept reading ^_^ keep being awesome, guys.

Clint's just about done learning the layout of Stark's insane tower's ventilation system when he hears Cap and Stark come in through the elevator. He can't make out any words, but Cap's tone is twanging with stress. Stark sounds like he's had three too many coffees, but that's just situation normal as far as Clint can tell.

He slides along the vent he's in (ten feet off the floor, running parallel to the entrance; closest exit above the ugly-ass giant vase thing halfway down the hall) and kicks the grate off, somersaulting and landing like a fucking gold medal gymnast a hair's breadth in front of Stark. He grins, lining up a few potential barbs for the coming bitch-off, but Stark just jumps back a bit and shouts something.

Huh. He didn't know Stark spoke another language.

'Scared the English right outta ya, huh?' Clint rocks on his feet and blows a mocking kiss. 'Five points to me.'

Cap's expression gets even more constipated than usual. 'Something happened.'

Tony throws his arms up, muttering in what sounds like made-up Russian (Clint had learned Russian mostly in self-defence after he'd realised Natasha had decided to start warning him in her native tongue before doing violent things to him). Clint narrows his eyes, and tries an enquiry.

Stark pouts at him and says something cranky before stomping past into the entertainment room. Clint raises his eyebrows at Cap. 'What do you mean by 'something'?'

Cap runs a hand over his hair, staring after Stark. 'I don't know. He was a few yards behind me, and then he stopped talking. When he yelled at me, it wasn't in English, and he doesn't understand when you talk to him.'

'Well, I don't think it's Russian,' Clint offers, stepping to the side and gesturing for Cap to follow Stark. 'Natasha might know better. I'll see what I can rustle up, but you'd better keep an eye on him until we know what's going on.'

Cap sighs and nods. 'Send Natasha in, would you?'

Clint gives him the casual salute that usually makes Cap's nostrils flare ever so slightly, but Cap just returns it and follows after Stark. Clint frowns, then goes to find Natasha.

****

An hour and two favours from a hacker Clint knows later, Clint's staring at the unredacted copy of Stark's file. He skims it quickly, focusing on the brief precis of Maria Stark-née-Beleska's life. The situation at hand is pretty urgent, but Clint stashes the file in one of the hidey holes he'd made in his room for later study. There's something about Stark, everyone knows it, and the temptation of being able to find out more is too great to throw away.

Natasha's sounding _really _frantic when he approaches the kitchen, and Clint grins quickly before making himself known.__

'It's Macedonian,' he glances at Stark who, true to form is already elbows-deep in the guts of the microwave. 'His mother was a refugee; raised him without much input from Howard until it was clear the boy was a genius, then it was tutors and special instruction the whole way to college,' he grins at Cap's face. 'Coulson was great at backgrounding.'

Clint lets himself stare at Stark, completely unconscious of everyone else in the room and adds 'From his interviews you'd never know English was a second language. All credit to the guy, since he can't understand me at the moment.'

Stark looks up suddenly, and says something tantalisingly close to understandable. Clint spends a moment cursing himself out for not spending more time on his language training, but Clint's never really been good at second-guessing himself. The past is past, and unless some joker (looking at _you _, Stark) invents a time machine there's nothing Clint can do to change it. Better to look to what you _can _do, then do it as hard as you can.____

Speaking of 'Sooo... how exactly did this happen? You guys were just going for pizza, right?'

Cap heaves a sigh. 'Yes. And I don't know who or what did this. He just... stopped understanding English.'

They all stare at Stark, who carries on mucking around with the wires and whatnot. Cap sighs again, and says hopelessly 'Maybe it'll wear off?'

Clint's been around long enough to know that you can't rule out any possibility, but his life has been directed by Murphy's Law for so long that he's pretty sure that's not a working game plan.

Natasha throws a poisonous glare at Cap, then heads to a computer panel near where Clint's standing. 'Jarvis,' she barks, but there's no response. 'Jarvis!'

The light in the panel changes to red, and then there's a fizzling pop and smoke everywhere. All the lights snap off, and Clint rolls his eyes. 'Oh great. So much for accidental amnesia.'

Stark yells, and Clint would give up his favourite bow and a month's pay to understand it; the man's always been good at language, and Clint just _knows _his cursing would be brilliant.__

'Yeah, buddy,' Cap says in a weary tone. 'We're working on it.'

_Working on it _, the man says. Clint suddenly feels the need to be anywhere else.__

****

The thing about Stark, Clint's always known, is that he's a bitch of prize-winning proportions but he'll bend over backwards for the people he cares about. Clint's had more updates and redesigns of his arrows in the last two months than he's had in the past _ten years _, and they're _good_. Stark wasn't top contractor for the military for twenty years for nothing, and it's a constant source of self-hugging glee to Clint that he gets all that expertise focused just on him.__

And usually Clint would never give Stark a compliment; the man's insufferable enough as it is, but what with him no longer understanding anything Clint says, Clint can finally tell Stark what he really thinks.

'That new formula for my containment arrows was brilliant,' he says when he finds Stark and Hulk chasing each other up and down the hall. 'I don't know _what_ we'd do without you.'

'Your body armour saved my life when I was in Iran,' he says when he runs into Stark in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. 'Twice.'

'I never had a home until you gave us yours,' he whispers into Tony's hair when they've been marathoning Star Wars and Tony just sort of collapses against him. And he's not sure when exactly he went from 'Stark' to 'Tony', but Clint just brushes a not-kiss against Tony's temple and sits back to watch the credits.

****

With Thor off on his extended booty call, and Natasha locked in the bowels of the Helicarrier glaring holes in a phrase book, it's just Clint, Cap and Banner babysitting Tony. Well, Hulk more than Banner, and Clint is going to have to find a soundproofed corner somewhere to give in to the hysterical laughter the sight of Hulk trying to play Hungry Hungry Hippos deserves.

Cap's spent the last few days sort of lurking in Tony's general vicinity with a constipated expression and increasingly-mussed hair. Clint's been gleefully adding to his stress because they haven't had a chance for hazing yet, and this is too good an opportunity to miss.

So he's already up at o-dark-thirty when Cap comes barrelling out of his room, almost body checking Clint into the wall. Clint hurriedly puts his hands behind his back, hoping Cap will attribute his sweaty panting grossness to an early run instead of the three hours crawling through the building's air ducts to set up Stage One of the team hazing.

'Cap!' he says brightly, then squints. There's a sharpie moustache curling along Cap's upper lip. 'Huh.'

He doesn't even _try_ to stifle the laughter, and Cap gets a panicked jerkiness to his movements, grabbing Clint by the shoulders and making to drag him somewhere. He wipes at his face, waving his other hand at Cap's face.

'Tell me Tony did that,' he begs, only just restraining himself from poking at Cap's lip. 'Tell me he's actually regressed to fucking elementary school pranks, and I swear I'll count it as my Christmas present!'

Cap frowns down at him, and Clint rolls his eyes. Everyone who thinks that Cap wakes up bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and in full command of his faculties is _so _deluded. He drags Cap down the hall to a mirror and bites his lip at the comical double take.__

'Please tell me this stuff comes off,' he begs, and Clint loses it again. 'OK, so not just a case of losing the ability to understand English.'

Clint reaches out to poke Cap's face, only to have his hand slapped down. He tries again, giggling helplessly at the increasing power behind Cap's deflections. The constipated frog face Cap makes is even funnier with a cartoon moustache.

'Bruce said he thought it might be more generalised amnesia,' Clint says when he's regained the ability to breathe without laughing again. 'He hasn't built himself a universal translator yet, or fixed Jarvis, or even started studying ESL, which would be the first three things I'd've expected him to do. He hasn't even made anything explode-'

He really should know not to give the Universe straight lines like that, Clint reflects as the hallway fills with smoke. Tony staggers out of the remains of the kitchen, coughing and grinning. He gives Clint and Cap a double thumbs-up, crowing something triumphant before wandering off again.

'Cleaning crew's coming today, right?' Clint asks. He's not too concerned with the damage; no one except for Cap really uses the kitchen for anything except the coffee maker and the toaster. He sniffs the smoke. 'Mmm... smells like caramel popcorn and twinkies.'

He grins when Cap gives in and thumps his head against the wall.

****

Usually Clint is happy to let Natasha handle the planning department. He's more than happy just to let her aim him at targets and let loose, but he's not incapable of doing the thinking part.

He grabs one of the magic credit cards Tony had handed out like Halloween candy and heads out to trawl book stores. It's harder than it had been the last time he'd gone looking for books (1998, on medically-enforced downtime while he recovered from a couple of stab wounds and climbing the walls with cabin fever), but this is still New York.

It takes about five hours before he's sure he's found the best range of Macedonian-English resources available, and he is _tired_ when he finally makes it back to the Tower.

They haven't let Tony off the floor since his... encounter? The attack? Since it happened, anyway, so Clint exits the elevator shouting a query about Tony's whereabouts. He heads to the kitchen, almost running into Tony's grinning face.

'What was that?' Cap asks, taking the pile of books from Clint and setting them on the breakfast bar.

Tony elbows Cap aside, babbling at warp speed until Clint places his hands on Tony's shoulders and says 'Slowly,' first in Macedonian, then English for Cap's benefit. He feels a mild flush of pride that his accent is apparently good enough for Tony to think he _actually_ speaks Macedonian.

Tony pouts a little, and repeats himself at normal-person speaking speed. Clint feels his mouth twist wryly, and glances over at Cap.

'I knew that'd be the most important thing to be able to say,' he shrugs. 'But three chapters of Lonely Planet's Macedonian phrase book ain't gonna be a long-term solution,' he turns back to Tony and apologises.

'Can you ask if he has any idea who did this?' Cap gives him an expectant look, and Clint thinks.

'Hang on,' he reaches for the Lonely Planet book; they have the weirdest range of questions and he thinks he saw something about reporting things to the police. Cap hands him the book, so he doesn't even have to let go of Tony. 'Thanks. Now, let's see-'

He doesn't even get a chance to find the index before Tony's making a sound like a chihuahua being stepped on and he drags the book out of Clint's hands.

'Whoa,' Clint jerks forward reflexively, running a soothing hand over Tony's shoulder and up his neck. 'Easy there. You OK?'

Tony snorts at him, jabbing his finger at two things on the page and giving Clint an expectant look. Clint dutifully reads the indicated phrases.

'I would like to order a pizza,' he slaps a hand over his eyes. 'Pepperoni. Jesus. OK'

He takes the book back, flips through until he finds the section on reporting crimes and reads the closest analogue, pointing at the Macedonian on the page for emphasis. Tony rolls his eyes, shrugging as he flips back to the pizza request, jabbing more forcefully this time.

'Of course it wasn't that easy,' Clint pulls an apologetic face at Cap. 'He doesn't remember anything useful, or he can't say, Cap. You down for pizza too?'

Cap visibly quashes his disappointment, straightening his shoulders. 'At least we can talk a little,' he gives Clint a small smile. 'It was a good plan, Hawkeye.'

Clint exhales a long sigh and slings his arm around Tony's shoulders, dragging him in for a half-hug. 'Pepperoni pizza comin' right up.'

It might not have been the instant answer Clint had secretly been hoping it would be, but they have a (flawed, granted) way to communicate beyond charades now.

He leaves his arm along Tony's shoulders until the pizza arrives, unwilling to examine the warm feeling he's suddenly got in his belly.

****

After they've eaten, Tony grabs Clint's hand and drags him down the hall to the entertainment room, issuing a PS3 challenge by throwing a controller at Clint's head.

'Oh, you're gonna regret this, sweetheart,' Clint grins as Tony loads Call of Duty. 'I do this for real.'

Turns out real life sniper skills don't necessarily translate to conquest in video games, and Clint finds himself having to actually concentrate on the TV. He finally gets a shot off at Tony's player, shouting 'Eat it, bitch!' before he can think better of it. Cap makes a distressed sound, and Tony just smirks before somehow _absolutely destroying_ Clint.

Clint blinks at the screen, barely registering Tony's mocking taunt. 

'How did you...' he looks from the screen to Tony's face to his controller. 'Damn.'

Tony, smug grin not shifting at all, resets the game and slants his eyes towards Clint in clear challenge.

'Laugh it up, pretty boy,' Clint settles himself on the back of the sofa, shooting not-very-subtle glances back at Tony. 'I'll be handing your arse to you in a moment.'

The prickling feeling of Cap staring at him intensifies, then Cap sighs and disappears. Clint returns his concentration to the game.

****

Clint spends the whole night in the ceilings, hiding away from everyone while he tries to work out what exactly is going on with him. He crawls up and down over five levels, spying on empty storage rooms and Cap beating the heavy bag in the gym and completely fails to come up with a rationale that satisfies him.

Sure, Tony's hot, but have you _seen_ the team? Top of any Hottest Celebrities list in the world. Clint's had crushes on team members before (hello Natasha, for the first two weeks before she slid effortlessly into bro status) and it's never been such a focus-drain before. So Clint has to accept that he might be having _feelings_.

Which: no. Terrible idea, Barton. The man's got a scarily-competent girlfriend that he's by all accounts been wildly in love with for over ten years. If there's one thing Clint absolutely _will not_ do, it's bust up a happy couple.

So after a night chasing his own tail, Clint resolves to do some good old fashioned repression. It's not like Tony'd be interested in starting up with him anyway. He's too fond of his playboy reputation.

Clint's train of thought is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Thor's laugh booming from the kitchen. He scrambles double speed to the vent over the kitchen door and peers out.

Thor, as always, seems too large for the room. He bends his head towards Tony, and Clint feels a spike of emotion, wild elation at the prospect of Thor having fixed Tony mixed with an ugly, selfish regret that now things will go back to how they were before.

'Indeed?' Thor grins. 'Truly, that is strange.'

Tony laughs at him, and opens his mouth. Clint freezes in place when the words are just as irritatingly almost-understandable as before. Thor doesn't seem to notice, though.

Clint eases the vent open and drops silently onto a shelf, frowning at the oblivious pair. OK, they've been calling Thor a God, but Clint'd always just assumed that the guy was just some sort of really advanced alien. That 'magic' was just what super-advanced tech looked like to humans.

He's starting to reconsider.

There's the sound of Cap's light-but-not-silent footsteps approaching rapidly, and Clint braces himself to grab the guy. Tony and Thor haven't noticed him, so when Cap and his ridiculously excited face appear, Clint seizes him by the shoulder and mouth, hissing 'Shut up and watch.'

He uses his grip on Cap to move to floor level, all of his available attention focussed on Tony. He feels the energy drain out of Cap when Tony replies to Thor's request for coffee, and jabs a finger into Cap's ribs.

'We are shield brothers,' Thor announces, swinging his newly-topped-up cup around and sloshing about half of it over Tony. Clint grins at the pissed-cat bristling Tony does, and rolls his eyes at Thor's Ye Olde apology.

Tony pouts at Thor, muttering something. Thor turns to the door, calling to Cap with a confused and disapproving note in his voice.

'Hello Thor,' Cap says, stepping forward. 'Welcome home.'

Thor inclines his head. 'Thank you! Have you the answer for Tony's question?'

Cap looks at Tony, and back to Clint, looking a little deer in headlights. 'What did he ask?'

Thor's face darkens like thunderclouds, and Clint thinks he can hear the rumble of thunder. _Weird_.

'But you were standing in the portal when he asked,' Thor takes a threatening step toward Cap. 'Near enough to hear yourself. For what reason are you treating a team mate this way? Tell me why you are behaving thus!'

'Do you understand Tony when he speaks?' Cap asks, not even flinching a little when Thor looms at him. Clint's a little impressed, to be honest.

'Of course!' Thor hauls Tony in, one massive arm lifting him in an embrace. 'Though I do not understand why his memories appear altered. What has happened in my absence?'

'Tony's forgotten how to speak English,' Clint puts in, folding his arms as he stares at Tony. He's been pretty happy this whole time, but now that he's got someone who _understands_ him he looks relaxed. 'We don't know how or why, but none of us speak Macedonian, so it's been fun.'

Thor's face twists up in the most hilariously confused puppy expression. 'Do not all Midgardians speak the same tongue, then?'

And that... Clint takes a moment to turn _that_ concept over. Wow. This is too fucking Star Trek, seriously.

Cap coughs a laugh, a little of the tension he's been carrying this week draining away. 'Not really. How come you can understand him?'

'More importantly,' Clint shoves away from the wall, feeling drawn toward Tony; like Tony's got extra gravity, dragging him in and throwing off his game. 'why does _he_ understand you?'

'The Aesir speak the Allspeak,' Thor says, tone casual and a little bored. 'I did not realise you knew not.'

Clint edges a little further into Tony's space, feeling a pang when Tony turns a sunny grin on him.

Damn, Clint blinks. Natasha's going to be _pissed_ when she gets back.

****

Thor, now that he understands what's going on, extracts information from Tony that mostly tallies with what they'd already deduced. Clint feels a little dirty when Thor tells them Tony's age, but he shoves the self-disgust away.

He jerks, a surprisingly strong surge of anger pulsing through him at Tony's brave little toaster face when he tells Thor why he hasn't been panicking at all these strangers in his home.

If Howard Stark wasn't already six feet under, Clint thinks he'd probably be tempted to put the man there himself. He might not have much personal experience with families, but he'd watched enough sit coms in the eighties to get an idea of what they were _supposed_ to be like.

Even the worst of the foster parents he'd been rotated through had understood that they were supposed to have some idea where their charges were. The benignly-neglectful orphanage staff hadn't been as disinterested as Tony's _actual_ father seemed to have been.

Clint frequently feels like shooting things and people, but it's usually out of boredom rather than protective anger. He's so surprised at how much this is affecting him, that he sort of zones out for a while.

He snorts when Cap tries to substitute milk for Tony's coffee, picturing the conniption Tony would throw if he were himself.

'The man's physically forty-five, Rogers,' he cuts in. Caffeine's physically addictive, he knows, and the quantities Tony drinks it in would have to lead to the apocalypse of withdrawals. 'And Tony's system is pretty dependant on caffeine. Trust me when I say that Stark in full-on caffeine withdrawal is not something you should be playing chicken with.'

He lets himself drift a little closer to Tony, squeezing his shoulder supportively. Tony grins at him again, and asks Thor something.

'His name is Clint,' Thor says, tone more gentle with Tony now. 'With the Eyes of a Hawk.'

Clint winces internally, glad for a moment this was thinks-he's-four Tony, not just-acts-like-he's-four Tony. He's not sure he'd be able to survive the ribbing.

'Clint,' Tony says, sounding weirdly like Natasha had before she'd lost her accent. He repeats Clint's name, and babble something, pulling Clint towards the door. Clint goes easily, half turning his head in anticipation of Thor's translation.

'Our Man of Iron wishes to challenge you to virtual combat,' Thor seizes them from behind, lifting two grown men like they were filled with helium or something. It's tripping every attack response instinct Clint's got, but he forces himself to relax. 'He says now he's learnt the weapons, he will defeat you with even greater ease.'

'Oh, it's _on_ ' Clint takes the excuse and twists out of Thor's grip, backing towards the door and plastering a grin on. 'Your ass is grass, Tony!'

He runs down to the entertainment room, a little twitchy and hyperactive from the lack of sleep. He resolves to get some sleep that night, and then to start backing off a little. Tony's got Thor now, someone he can _really_ communicate with. He won't need Clint's pantomiming and (yeah, kinda creepy in hindsight) physical affection.

So, backing off. That's probably for the best, Clint tells himself. He'll back off.

After this game.

****

Of course, 'after this game' winds up being twelve hours later (with appropriate breaks for pizza and coffee) when Natasha materialises in the doorway. She calls out in Macedonian, as close as she ever gets to grinning. Tony arches backwards over the couch to reply, and Clint has a very confusing moment of equal parts concern for Tony's back and blinding arousal at the careless sensuality.

Thor interrupts his brain fog. 'Welcome back, fair Widow! Tony has been explaining what he remembers, though I fear it is not much.'

Clint tears his attention away from the band of tanned skin where Tony's t shirt rucked up, and finds Natasha staring at him. He holds firm for a few seconds, but then she arches the Eyebrow of Pending Violence. Clint shuffles along the couch, studiously not looking at Tony.

As soon as she's satisfied with the distance between Clint and Tony, she turns to face Cap. 'I take it the Allspeak is to thank? That's vexing, though the soap operas were surprisingly engaging.'

Cap leaps up, offering her his seat, but she waves him off. Clint hunches over his controller and blocks them out.

Or he _tries_ , but then Natasha decides to perch on the arm of the couch and start stroking Tony's hair. Clint narrows his eyes at her, but she just gives him a lofty and disdainful smile.

'Frigga is the most learned of the Aesir in the Women's Ways,' Thor announces, and Clint has to backtrack to understand what relevance that has. He thinks he recalls the conversation leading up to that, but he'll double check with Natasha later.

He notes and dismisses the sound of Tony's girlfriend's heels approaching, furiously button mashing when Tony turns to smile at her. Cap startles when she speaks, and Natasha goes off to continue her budding interest in Olympic Cock Blocking.

'Midgard has many formidable women,' Thor says in a dreamy tone, and Clint has to repress a smirk at the wistful glance he sends the door. 'And were my heart not claimed by the Beauteous Jane, I would gladly make overtures to either-'

'Stop right there, buddy,' Clint lets himself edge back along the couch. 'Unless you wanna wake up naked chained upside down in a Russian warehouse.'

Clint speaks from experience, there. And from Thor's expression, he wouldn't be any more cowed by it than Clint had been. Man, Phil had given him such a _look_ when he'd found them; Clint still dangling from the ceiling while they played poker, wagering answers in place of clothes or money. He's pretty sure she'd decided to defect about half an hour before Phil arrived, she'd just wanted to drag out the blackmail material.

So, Natasha: on the traumatising side. Thor's lucky he has that physicist keeping him in line.

Clint's not entirely sure Potts would be the gentler option if Thor _did_ try anything, either.

Cap books it for the gym, and Clint turns back to the screen just in time to see his avatar explode.

'How did you even _do_ that?' he demands, but Tony just grins.

****

So it turns out Thor's mother might have the solution, and Cap's decided to make it an interdimensional road trip. Thor drags them up to the helipad on the roof at ass-o'clock in the morning, and swings his hammer around, bellowing for someone called Heimdall. Clint really ought to google Norse myths one of these days.

Natasha and Banner stay behind, twin smirks twitching as Cap, Tony and Clint scream like little girls when Heimdall, whoever he is, invisibly grabs them and _yanks_. There's a confused few minutes of sparkly colours and breathtaking speed, then they land hard. If Clint stands a little too close to Tony when they slam down on the shiny fucking _rainbow_ bridge, well. Natasha's not here to glare at him.

Clint feels a warm rush of _something_ when Tony makes a small sound and grabs his hand, twining their fingers together and shuffling a little closer. Clint can feel his cheeks heat up, but so fucking what. He grins, squeezing back.

'Ready to see the wizard, Tony?' he bumps his shoulder against Tony's, feeling mushy again when Tony grins at him. 'Think we'll get to ride a flying horse?'

'If you so desire,' Thor turns, levelling a solicitous stare at Clint, and Clint really ought to remember how the others can understand him even if Tony can't. 'Perhaps some such transport can be arranged. I had planned on walking, though.'

Clint can see Tony's mouth open, presumably to ask Thor to tell him what Clint had said, but Cap busts in, looking kind of like an angry chicken shooing the lot of them along the road.

'Walking is good,' he glares at Clint for some reason; really, Clint has no idea why this is all his fault. 'We don't want to keep your mother waiting, so if you'd lead the way?'

Thor sort of half bows, and sets off along the (Jesus Christ, how is this Clint's _life_?) rainbow bridge. Cap's gaze skates over Clint, pausing at his and Tony's linked hands, then he huffs and follows Thor.

'I think we're in trouble with Teacher,' Clint murmurs to Tony, swinging their hands a little. 'Gonna have to clean the dusters after school.'

Tony whispers something that Clint can _very nearly_ understand, and starts forward, tugging on Clint's hand. Clint grins at the back of Tony's head, and lets his eyes wander down to appreciate the view.

He is _so_ screwed.

****

When they reach the... palace? (It's probably a palace, Clint decides), Clint's hackles go up as soon as the door opens. Cap and Tony both sort of _sag_ , creepy dreamy smiles spreading across their faces, and they both take what looks like unconscious steps towards the woman in the middle of the hall.

Clint can feel an insidious, smothering press against his mind. Very similar to what it had felt like when Loki-

As soon as he jerks back with that thought, the feeling recedes, and the woman (Thor's mother, Clint reminds himself) sends him a sorrowful stare. Tony tears his hands away to run forward, talking double speed and flinging himself at her feet. Clint's hand hovers, reaching after Tony until he recalls himself and falls into parade rest. He can see Cap's concern out the corner of his eye, but Clint really doesn't feel up to reassuring him so he keeps his eyes forward.

He very nearly jumps when Thor's hand lands on his shoulder, cutting his gaze across to see the reassurance in Thor's gaze before Thor charges across the hall to his mother. Clint swallows hard. Thor trusts his mother, and Clint trusts Thor. He can handle this.

Cap grabs him by the elbow and pulls him along so they're all within polite audience distance. Cap pays his respects, _bowing_ , of all ridiculous things and she turns a distant smile on each of them in turn.

Clint feels his jaw tighten as she pets at Tony like he's a dog, and Tony just turns an adoring stare up at her. This is creeping Clint right the fuck out.

She hums then, and it takes all Clint's control not to rush forward to interfere, but Thor said she'd help. So Clint just grips his left wrist with his right hand and squeezes.

'My son,' she says, hand twining in Tony's hair. 'Be so good as to have the guards bring Loki.'

Clint can feel Cap's stare burning into the side of his face, the man shuffling closer and putting a hand on his shoulder, but Clint steadfastly keeps his eyes forward. He has to hold it together for when-

'Have you decided to start a zoo, Mother?'

The man doesn't look like he's been suffering, Clint observes, and he's aware of Cap tensing beside him.

'Did you have anything to do with what has befallen here, my son?' she asks, a note Clint identifies as manipulative sorrow in her voice.

Loki's face twists as he looks down at Tony, and Clint feels a moment of unexpected sympathy for the guy. Frigga's broad strokes picture of Disappointed Mother must be difficult to resist.

'Not by my hand,' he admits, flashing a quick glance towards Thor.

Thor steps forward. 'But you recognise the work, brother?'

Clint watches Loki's expression flicker, staring at Thor so hard Clint thinks he might have forgotten there was anyone else there.

'Why ought I to answer you?' Loki asks eventually, spreading his hands. 'What is in it for me, as the humans say.'

'Nothing,' Frigga says. 'But the regained trust of your family.'

Loki turns a glare on her. 'Not even the freedom of the palace, Mother?'

'Not yet,' she shakes her head, and Loki sighs.

'It is the work of Amora,' he slumps a little. 'She is not yet powerful enough to weave a permanent enchantment of this kind; already it unravels,' he pinches at the air by Tony's head and tugs.

Tony jerks, and Clint takes a half step forward, before Tony says 'Watch it, you-'

Clint feels his heartbeat quicken, even though Tony falls back into pissy Macedonian straight away. Loki turns to stare at them, eyes icy and alien.

'All you need do is wait, mortals,' he spits. 'But guard yourselves. Amora will plague you.'

Clint just keeps his face blank until Thor agrees to leave, an hour or so later.

****

Natasha ambushes Cap about three inches inside the door, and of _course_ she planted a bug on them. Clint looks fondly over at Tony. Of _course_ Starktech was effective across dimensions.

He's only half listening as Cap and Natasha fight over who gets to tell Pepper the good news, resolutely ignoring the pang in his chest, so when Jarvis pipes up, Clint is startled into pinning Tony behind him and looking frantically for the threat.

'Uh, hey Jarvis,' he mutters, peeling himself off Tony and avoiding Natasha's eye.

'Jarvis,' Cap says, and Clint feels a little better that the guy's sounding a little unsteady too. 'Perhaps if you'd lower the volume?'

'My apologies, Captain,' Jarvis says at his usual volume. 'Is there an explanation for why I have conflicting reports from my internal clock and the atomic clock, sir?'

Why Tony programmed his house to be a bitchy Englishman, Clint will never know. 'God damn magic, Jarvis,' he says, and pulls Tony towards the entertainment room, edging past Natasha like an angry alley cat. She'll track him down and tear strips off him later, he knows.

****

Loki's estimate of a week turned out to be wild exaggeration. After another marathon round of somehow-beat-the-actual-sniper-in-sniping-games, Tony was already comprehensible about half the time. By the next afternoon, he was speaking almost exclusively in English, though his memories seemed to be lagging behind. He stayed handsy, much to Natasha's unvoiced ire and Clint's joy-angst.

'Dude,' he drapes himself over Clint from behind, breath tickling Clint's neck. 'Do we need to give you remedial training in PS3?'

'Whaddaya think?' Clint asks Natasha, absolutely _not_ leaning against Tony. 'Fourteen years old?'

Clint can only see the smile on Natasha's face because of ten years' practice. 'He's never been terribly mature. This could be thirty for all we know.'

Tony twists away from Clint, arching himself over the back of the couch in a way that his back will _not_ thank him for.

'Dude,' he says, jabbing a finger into Tony's ribs. 'Your brain might be in idiot adolescent mode, but your body's still the wrong side of forty to be flopping around like that.'

Tony just pokes his tongue out at Clint, and before Clint can respond, Cap's there, hauling Tony up without even a grunt to let the non-super soldiers in the room maintain their masculinity.

They're all lucky Clint is so secure in his manliness, otherwise he'd be hiding in the bathroom crying and listening to Bright Eyes about now.

'Come on, Tony,' Cap says, giving Tony a fatherly pat on the shoulders. 'Go get changed. Pepper's going to be over later, and I think actual clothes might be an idea.'

Clint and Natasha both laugh, and Clint resets the game. 'Pretty sure she's seen him in worse... if not much.'

'Who's this chick, anyway?' Tony demands, and his tone is definitely adolescent. 'Why do I care if I look any good?'

Clint can just about feel Cap's offence. 'That _chick_ ,' he says, and Clint's not looking; still not looking. 'Is your girlfriend, the CEO of your company and a very classy lady.'

'Oh, seriously? CEO?' Tony hums. 'What happened to Obie?'

Aww, crap. Clint closes his eyes. He never met the guy, only had Phil's report and one 3am drunken horrified explanation to work from, but that had been more than enough. 

He kind of hopes Tony's memory skips that episode, for Tony's sake.

'OK, yeah,' Tony says in a small voice, uncomfortable laugh cracking through. 'I remember now.'

Tony makes an excuse and flees, and Clint shifts as Cap leaps over the back of the couch. Clint puts the controller down with exaggerated care and shoots a glance across at Cap.

'So,' he looks at Natasha, but apparently she's fine with letting him field this one. 'Obadiah Stane. You aren't gonna like this.'

Clint isn't looking forward to going over it either, but he supposes Cap has a right to know.

****

Pepper Potts sweeps in a few hours later, interrupting a fairly uncomfortable atmosphere. Cap's been stewing about Stane, and Tony's filling all available space with Not Concerned Really I'm Fine. He brightens when he sees Pepper, shooting across the kitchen to frolic around her and herd her back towards the elevator.

Clint lets himself stare at the doorway for a minute, but he makes himself scarce after the Hulk goes all stampy on the breakfast bar, sliding silently into the crawlspace through the air vent in the third bathroom.

He hasn't let himself think about what he's going to do when Tony's back to not really liking him. He's self-aware enough to know he needs to have a bit of a sulk about everything before he'll be able to shove it all down into some dark recess of his mind. Clint knows if he tries to pretend there's nothing wrong, he'll wind up doing something that'll get Fury sending him back to the shrinks.

So he's going to do a little more semi-stalking via the air vents, spend a few hours mentally whinging at the unfairness of everything, sneak down to the range and shoot things until he drops, and then he's sure he'll have worked through it.

He's _really_ intending on doing that. It would be the smart way to handle it, but he finds himself gravitating to the kitchen after only a few minutes.

Clint doesn't bother with stealth as he climbs out of the vent and onto the top of the range hood. Cap gives him a nod and a concerned frown, but doesn't say anything when Clint just crouches down.

Clint stares at the mess the Hulk made of the kitchen, letting himself drift in a semi-meditative state. It was how he spent his time waiting for the target, and it didn't involve any thinking at all.

He'd do the working-through-his-feelings thing tomorrow.

****

He's only partially aware of Tony sticking his head back in an hour or so later, and _does not_ think about what Tony and Pepper could've gotten up to in that time.

Clint notes Natasha and Tony sniping at each other happily, and resolves to steal back the books he'd bought. He's nowhere near as good with languages as Natasha, but he _is_ wildly curious about what they'll be saying to each other.

He doesn't twitch when Tony bellows 'FOR SCIENCE!', but it's a pretty near thing. He feels his stomach drop as Cap redirects Tony his way and herds the Avengers out of the room. Interfering old-

'So, thank you,' Tony says after waiting to hear the elevator door open and close.

Clint tilts his head to one side and frowns. 'It's all on Cap keeping people in line.'

'Pfft,' Tony waves a hand. 'Not for the place still standing. For being... nice when I was a fucked up manchild.'

'You're _still_ a fucked-up manchild,' Clint points out, swinging himself back to ground level. If Tony can be mature about this, Clint can too.

Tony laughs, looking a little surprised, which: really? Has he not been paying attention to the sort of smartass Clint is?

'You remember this week, then?' Clint makes himself ask. 'That whole paint-a-moustache-on-Cap thing?'

Tony's grin widens. 'Yep. And I remember you going out to find phrase books and letting me kick your arse at PS3. So thank you, Clint.'

Clint hasn't blushed since he was thirteen, but he feels like he's about to break his streak. 'No problem,' he mutters. 'Thanks for putting us all up.'

Tony rolls his eyes, like free rent and board is too trivial to mention and frowns at the rubble around his feet.

'Was the coffee maker on the bench when Bruce did his thing?' he asks, a note of resignation creeping into his tone.

Clint nods. 'Cap cleared the worst of the glass up, but you're going to have to trek down to your lab until Bruce remembers to replace it.'

Tony's shoulders slump. 'I built that coffee maker myself,' the corners of his mouth turn comically down for a moment, then he grins. 'I suppose I can build a new one. I could make it sing Lady Gaga at Bruce when he comes near.'

'Yeah,' Clint pulls a face. 'You _could_ do that. It's your tower, if you want to have to rebuild every week I suppose it's up to you.'

Tony sighs, staring sadly at where the bench and coffee maker used to be. 'Yeah. It'll have to be Enya. Or whale song. What _do_ hippie-trippy types listen to to calm down?'

Yeah, Tony's fine. Clint spends a moment studying his profile, letting himself stare while Tony's distracted, then he steps over to the window. The whole of New York seems to be spread out below them, and Clint can see the shadow of the Helicarrier hovering nearby. He makes himself turn back to Tony.

'I'm glad you're back to normal,' he forces the words out, not bothering to stifle the emotion in his voice. 'When we find this Amora chick, I'm gonna shoot her in the arse. Painful, humiliating, and hilarious.'

'OK, then,' Tony looks a little confused. 'Is that a gesture of some sort?'

Clint gives a shrug that feels middle school awkward. 'Solidarity?'

'What,' Tony grins. ''Mess with the Avengers, you get an embarrassing scar'? You going to hunt down that kid in the garbage can costume and the hyperactive mouth too?'

'Sure,' Clint grins. 'If you want me to.'

He notes the way the afternoon sun glints off Tony's teeth when he laughs, memorises the way his eyes sparkle.

Clint lets himself really _look_ one last time, because as of tomorrow he's going to stop. Tony's not his and it's stupid to pretend.

****

Clint winds up spending the better part of two weeks skulking around in the air vents, one of his forays into the regular areas having led to a humiliating exchange with Cap. He's not in the usual SHIELD rotation any more; doesn't have anywhere to be when there're no mutant lizard things or alternate Universe invading forces to repel, so he's free to crawl around out of sight all day and night.

Phil would have tracked him down after a few days, he thinks as he stares up at the top of the vent. And, depending on why he'd gone to ground, either coaxed him out with candy bars or flooded the relevant area with gas and tied him to a bed in Medical.

He smiles at the memory, and is surprised for a moment at how little it hurts to think of Phil, but it's been over a year now. He still misses Phil's dust-dry humour, his absolute immunity to Clint's excuses, and his dorky obsession with Captain America, but it's not with the raw guilt and overwhelming grief of the Chitauri Invasion aftermath any more.

Clint turns his memories of Phil over in his head warily, expecting to feel gutted, but when he thinks of how Phil used to let him hide from Fury under Phil's desk he just smiles. Apparently Clint's managed to heal a little without noticing.

He feels relief stuttering in his chest; if he can get over Phil's death, he can get over Tony.

He just needs some time.

****

It's some time after midnight, though Clint's not sure of the day at the moment, when Natasha comes stomping in, swearing like... well, like a really pissed-off Russian assassin.

Clint crawls towards the nearest vent to watch her report to Cap about the wizard dude she'd gone to find.

Cap kneels down to see to whatever Natasha's done to her ankle, tugging her boot off and wrapping the joint with a practised confidence.

'He was the most arrogant man I have _ever_ had the misfortune to encounter,' Natasha snarls, then her head snaps up and she stares right at Clint. 'Clint can go next time; he likes that type.'

_Busted_ , Clint sighs quietly. _On all counts_. He watches as Cap follows Natasha's gaze and Cap's shoulders slump just a little. OK, it's probably time Clint came out to play.

He's just about to give up on hiding and go to his actual bed, when Cap sends Natasha to bed and Tony calls out from the kitchen.

Cap goes to Tony, and Clint can't help making his way around to spy on them. He misses the start of their conversation what with the whole stealth-takes-longer thing.

'-did you want to be?' Cap's saying when Clint's getting settled by the vent.

'Yes,' Tony stares down into his mug. 'No. No, I just... I think maybe we'd worn too far into the grooves before, you know?'

He glances up at Cap and chuckles. 'She was my assistant for twelve years before we got together,' and they're talking about Pepper, Clint realises. Great.

'And maybe if I'd got my head outta my ass ten years ago...' Tony trails off, and Clint feels his jaw drop. There's a tiny spark of hope kindling in his chest. 'No. Not even then. But we'd gotten too used to our roles as boss and Tony-the-toddler-in-a-man-suit.'

Cap makes a weird sort of bird noise then, and Clint has to bite his lip at the sidelong squint Tony sends Cap's way.

'So you think you and Pepper-' Cap says, apparently ignoring his little foray into weird mothering noises in the hopes that Tony will too.

'I _know_ me and Pepper are not really long-term romance material,' Clint can feel his hands start to shake, and he clenches them into fists. 'It was fun while it lasted, but it's just not what she or I need from each other. I'm not broken-hearted, Steve. I just needed a few weeks to get settled. I'll be back on playboy form by the end of the month, scouts honour.'

Clint's shaking so hard he knocks against the side of the vent, and Cap looks up. Some super spy Clint is, he rolls his eyes at himself. A few butterflies in the stomach and he gets so twitchy he gives himself away.

Cap stands, brushing his hands off and making a big production of leaving for Clint's benefit. Tony just looks baffled. It's a good look on him, Clint decides as he kicks the vent off and drops into the kitchen.

Startled is a good look, too. Clint ignores the shouting, stalking forward before he can think better of it, crowding Tony against the new bench. He leans forward, careful to leave Tony a clear escape route and telescoping his intentions so there's no confusion. He pauses, lips an inch away from Tony's and he searches Tony's face for any hint of an objection.

'The fuck are you waiting for?' Tony breathes, and closes the distance.

It's glorious; sweet and hot and just a little dirty. Clint grins into the kiss and presses forwards, slipping one hand along Tony's back and using the other to tilt Tony's head to the perfect angle. Tony's hands slip over his fly, a practised flick of the wrist opening Clint's pants, then his own. He shoves both pairs down just far enough for easy access, and there's a choked sound from the doorway, then rapidly retreating footsteps, but Clint can't even be bothered laughing at Cap's modesty.

He forgets about Cap, and the new threat of Amora, and the risk of one of the other Avengers deciding to come looking for a late-night snack, and concentrates on driving Tony wild. 

It takes them an hour before they can tear themselves away to find a bed, and they don't wind up going to sleep until dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the more I thought about the Frigga scene in Allspeak, the creepier it seemed to me. I just... it seemed like (especially for someone who'd been controlled by an outside force) it would be very unsettling, if not skeevy non-con sort of area. So Clint's reading of the encounter is quite different from Steve's.


End file.
